


One on One

by Nestra



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: Community: picfor1000, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-02
Updated: 2007-03-02
Packaged: 2017-10-08 17:04:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nestra/pseuds/Nestra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dwight lowers his voice, which either means that he's sincere, or he's about to say something especially crazy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	One on One

**Author's Note:**

> Written for slodwick's "A Picture is Worth 1000 Words" challenge. Thanks to shrift for beta.

It's all Jim's fault. You did something earlier in the day to piss him off. You're not quite sure what, but you think it's got something to do with the expression on his face when he saw you aiming the camera at Pam and Toby, having a quiet conversation in the break room. Toby leaned in to say something, his hand lifted to barely touch Pam's cheek, and Pam smiled up at him. The producers go nuts at any hint of new romance around the office, so you zoom in, framing the whole thing through the break room window.

After you get the shot, and Pam returns to her desk, cheeks flushed, you notice Jim staring at you. And not staring at her.

He waits until the afternoon to approach the producer. "Hey," he says. "I've got this great idea. You should do features on each of the people in the office."

"Yeah?" Anthony says. "I think we've got that covered with the one-on-one interviews."

Jim shakes his head. "But you could show people in their homes, away from their coworkers. We all have lives, you know," he says earnestly, and he is a salesman, after all.

Anthony's not convinced. "The documentary is about this office."

"You could try one and see how it works. Maybe start with Michael." You see Anthony getting ready to turn that offer down flat, but Jim's no idiot. "Or Dwight."

Right around then is when you realize you're doomed.

***

"The Schrutes have always been technologically savvy," Dwight says to the camera. You keep him in focus while avoiding the giant leather couch in the living room.

Dwight continues, leading you through a narrow and poorly lit hallway. If you trip on something, you swear to yourself that you'll file for workman's comp. "My grandfather was one of the first area beet farmers to install an irrigation system on his land. It consisted of twenty-three buckets and some twine, but that year, the Schrute beets were 3.42% bigger than any of our competitors' yield." He looks expectantly at you; you raise your eyebrows and try to seem impressed.

"I instantly master any new technology I put my mind to. Examples: computers, the internet, spreadsheets, e-mail, programmable VCRs, coffee makers, and cell phones." He holds up his hand and folds a finger down for each item on his list. You're bored by the time he reaches his pinky.

When Dwight finally finishes his speech about technological domination, you're in a room at the back of the house. It's actually pretty nice. You realize you've been picturing a cross between a twelve-year-old's bedroom and a serial killer's lair, but Dwight's room is big and clean, with a couple of windows letting in sunshine. There's decent-sized bed with a dust ruffle, which makes you wonder about some of those Dwight-and-Angela rumors you've heard. There is a Star Wars poster, but it's framed, not stuck to the wall with thumbtacks. A typewriter sits on a little round table under one of the windows, and it draws your attention.

"That seems a little old-fashioned for you." You gesture to the typewriter.

Dwight lowers his voice, which either means that he's sincere, or he's about to say something especially crazy. "This is one of the Schrute family's greatest treasures."

"Really."

He doesn't pick up on your skepticism. "Grandfather Schrute's typewriter. He used it to maintain records about every aspect of the farm -- planting records, yield, flavor, hybridization--"

"Beet hybridization?"

"Selective breeding programs lead to firmer, tastier, and more attractive beets." He nods sagely. You really can't find any way to reply to that, since you've never thought that much about beets, attractive or otherwise.

"It looks like you keep the typewriter in really good condition. Do you use it?"

Dwight scoffs. "To do what? I use Excel to keep the farm's records." You have a vision of him sitting at his computer, designing bar graphs all about beets. "The typewriter is obsolete in the 21st century."

You open your mouth to ask him why he keeps it, if it's so obsolete, but you change your mind. You don't want to know. You want to draw your own conclusions. Maybe it's Dwight's way of honoring his grandfather. Maybe he thinks he'll sell it on eBay and make a fortune. Maybe he's just an obsessive collector.

Jim was just trying to stir up trouble, but he was right. The people who work in the Dunder-Mifflin office do have lives beyond what's shown on camera, and you think it would be the worst mistake in the world to show too much of those lives. There's no mystery left in corporate America, in cubicles and mergers and health care plans. There's probably no mystery in anyone's home, either, but you'd like to be able to pretend.

Not that anyone asks you -- you're just the camera guy. But right now, you're the only one here.

"Maybe we should get back to the office," you say.

Dwight shakes his head. "Oh, no. You're not leaving until Mose and I show you the harvester."

On your way out, you get a last shot of the typewriter, sitting alone on its small table.

***

There's a horrified silence when you walk into the office, which means that Michael has said or done something awful. Again. One of the other crew members will fill you in later, over drinks and cheap bar food. Dwight sits at his desk and picks up the phone to check his voice mail.

"Did you have a good time?" There's a gleam in Jim's eye, the kind you usually see when he's looking into the camera, inviting everyone to join in his joke. You don't like seeing it directed at you. But then you think about that typewriter, and everything you don't know.

"I did, man. Thanks for the suggestion." He looks puzzled, and you get a laugh out of that. You always thought Jim was kind of an ass anyway.


End file.
